Anne-Marie's mind was a whirlwind as she ascended the long spiral staircase, her arms folded tightly against her chest, her gaze fixed on the ground. Valerie's words echoed endlessly in her thoughts, each repetition deepening the unease that gripped her.

"Don't you see how your engagement to Prince Aiden is only going to make matters worse for everyone? Do you think the people of Niyagra would stay still and watch you get married to the prince? They'd never let this merge happen, not after all your family did, all your father did?"

Those words held a bitter truth she couldn't ignore, no matter how hard she tried. The story of Niyagra was one everyone knew, a tale of tragedy passed down through generations, embedded in the very fabric of Breton's history. It was a story that haunted her now, as she replayed it in her mind, step after step.

Caleb Jonathan, the most infamous terrorist in Breton's history, led a group of rebels who called themselves the Revolutionaries. Their goal was the destruction of the monarchy, to replace it with a presidential system of government. They caused unspeakable devastation across the kingdom, culminating in the attack on the royal park—a day etched in infamy when ten children were massacred, including Princess Ariana, Aiden's beloved sister.

The pain that followed was unimaginable. The royal family was plunged into despair, and in their grief, the king ordered a brutal retaliation. The village of Niyagra, suspected of harboring Caleb, was set ablaze. Over half the population perished in the flames, their cries silenced by the roar of the fire. The survivors, fewer than a hundred, were taken prisoner, their village reduced to ashes.

The world moved on, but the people of Niyagra did not. They rebuilt their village without the help of the royal family, living in seclusion, their bitterness festering into something deep and unyielding. They rejected modernization, living like relics of the past, their pride and their grief intertwined in a way that the rest of the world could scarcely understand.

Anne-Marie had almost forgotten about them, until Valerie's cutting words brought it all back. Could it be true? Had the Prime Minister really advised the king to commit such atrocities? The thought made her blood run cold.

Lost in these thoughts, Anne-Marie barely noticed as she reached the top of the stairs, coming to a stop in front of a large, imposing brown door. Two men in suits stood guard, their expressions blank, giving no indication that her presence was unusual. Her hand hesitated on the door knob. Was she really doing this? Was confronting Aiden the right thing to do?

She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering doubts, and pushed the door open. The cool air inside the room washed over her, sending a shiver down her spine. She stepped inside, rubbing her arms against the chill.

The room was nothing like she had expected. Instead of the opulent game archive she had imagined, it was more like a library, with shelves upon shelves of books dominating the space. The games were there, of course—a dart board, a small golf section, a few video games—but they were almost an afterthought, tucked away in corners. The snooker table, however, stood out, catching her attention with the sharp clatter of plastic balls colliding.

Asher was there, alone, focused intently on his game. His movements were calm and precise, every shot measured, every action deliberate. Anne-Marie hesitated at the top of the stairs, unsure of how to proceed. She watched him for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt for what she was about to ask.

"W-where's everyone?" she finally managed, her voice small in the large room.

"Out," Asher replied without looking up, his attention fixed on the cue ball as he lined up his next shot. "What's up?"

Anne-Marie bit her lip, fumbling for the right words.

"I was wondering if Aiden showed up in school today. I can't seem to reach him."

Asher's shot was perfect, sending the ball into the pocket with a satisfying thud. He moved around the table, preparing for his next turn.

Anne-Marie swallowed, unsure how to broach the subject that had brought her here. The "if" and "where" questions hung heavy on her tongue, but she wasn't sure how to voice them.

"I was wondering if Aiden showed up at school today. I... I can't seem to reach him."

Asher's shot was perfect, sending the ball clattering into the pocket. He moved around the table again, his expression unreadable.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that? You moved into the palace with him, after all. Aren't your schedules intertwined?"

Anne-Marie bit her lip, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Uh, well... they are, but his schedule has kind of been separate from mine since yesterday." She watched as Asher sank another ball into a corner pocket. "He wasn't in school today, was he?"

"Nope," Asher responded, his voice flat. He still hadn't looked at her, his attention seemingly fixed on the game. "It's that time of year again. You know what he's always busy doing around this time."

Anne-Marie's heart skipped a beat. What was he talking about? What time of year? Was this something Paris was supposed to know? Her thoughts raced as she tried to keep her expression neutral, but she was at a loss. How could she ask for more details without raising suspicion? Asher's tone made it clear that Aiden's whereabouts were something Paris should be intimately familiar with.

She decided it was best to leave before she dug herself deeper.

"I'd just..." she pointed awkwardly towards the door, "I should probably just leave."

Asher finally paused, looking up at her for the first time. His eyes were sharp, searching, as if trying to understand why she was behaving so strangely.

Anne-Marie froze, her hand hovering in mid-air. The intensity in Asher's gaze made her feel exposed, vulnerable. She tried to brush it off, turning to leave, but something stopped her. A memory—Aubrey's voice, pleading with her to help just as Asher leaned forward to the table again.

"You and Asher have been friends forever, he listens to you, he talks to you. You're the only person who could find out if I actually stand a chance with him....help me Pee, please,"

Aubrey's words echoed in her mind, refusing to be ignored. She hated this part of herself, the part that couldn't let go, that always put others' needs before her own, even when it wasn't her problem to fix. She sighed, gathering the courage she needed before turning back to Asher.

"Can we talk?"

Asher stood up straight, setting down the cue stick. His calm exterior remained, but his eyes reflected a mixture of curiosity and something deeper—wariness, perhaps.

"What about?"

Anne-Marie took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She hated how her fingers twisted around each other, betraying her anxiety.

"It's about Aubrey," she began, watching as Asher's expression subtly hardened. "I think she likes you... I think she really likes you."

Asher let out a sigh, one that sounded more tired than frustrated. He leaned against the table, his frown deepening.
"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not asking you to like her back, not immediately, at least," Anne-Marie continued, trying to sound sincere. "Just... maybe you could give her a chance? You know Aubrey, she's really kind and thoughtful—"

"Are you serious?" Asher interrupted, finally looking at her with an intensity that made her heart race. His voice, though calm, carried a sharp edge. "Is this like a kind of joke?"

Anne-Marie felt the weight of his words pressing down on her. Why was he so upset?

"Asher, I was just trying to—"

"First, you act like I don't exist anymore," Asher said, cutting her off. His voice remained even, but there was an unmistakable hurt buried beneath the surface. "You barely take my calls or reply to any of my texts, and now you're going to walk in here and ask me to go on dates with Aubrey Bolton?"

Anne-Marie felt her throat tighten, the guilt of avoiding him gnawing at her. She knew how close Paris and Asher had been, and she could only imagine how hurt he must have felt by her distance.

"Asher—"

"And let's not talk about that text you sent me on the night of your engagement," Asher continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. He seemed to hesitate, as if weighing whether to say more.
"Did you tell him?"

Anne-Marie paused, she narrowed her gaze on him.

"Tell who what?" Anne-Marie asked, confusion and anxiety battling for control inside her.

"Prince Aiden," Asher clarified, his eyes narrowing. "Did you tell him about what happened the night before the ceremony?"

Anne-Marie's mind spun in circles, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Asher's face twisted into a bitter smile, a mixture of disbelief and resignation.

"I can't believe you're doing this again," he said softly, shaking his head.

"What are you talking about, Asher?" Anne-Marie's voice cracked slightly as she spoke, a testament to her growing frustration and fear. "Just tell me what you mean—"

"Alright then, I'll spell it out just in case you forgot," Asher said, his calm façade finally breaking. His voice was still measured, but there was a tremor of emotion beneath it. "I'm talking about the night we were together, right here." Asher pointed to the snooker table.

"What?" Her confusion doubled by the minute. Anne-Marie felt her world begin to unravel. What was he talking about? How could she help him if she didn't even understand what he was saying? "Asher,"

"We had sex Paris." He blurted out, tired of watching her play dumb. His frustration doubled just the same. "You said you were going to tell him, to call off the engagement but you never did. You were never going to."

Anne-Marie felt the ground slip away beneath her. The world around her seemed to slow, the air thickening as if trying to suffocate her. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she was sure she had misheard him. But the look on Asher's face, a mixture of vulnerability and frustration, told her that she hadn't.

"What?" The word escaped her lips in a whisper, disbelief coloring her voice.

Asher let out a weak exhale.

"You used me." He said, taking a step to her, like he was ready to pull her in his embrace in case her legs gave up on her. He froze halfway when he saw how pale her face had gotten, like she was genuinely shocked at his divulgence.

"Paris I've known you practically all my life, and you know that I'd rather die than watch you get hurt." He exhaled like he was scared of her reaction to what he was about to say. "I've seen you on your best days, and even in your worst moments, I have cared about you the same. This marriage, it almost had you killed." he shook his head.

"There has to be another way. I know I'm not a Prince, and I don't have some fancy throne waiting for me to inherit but I love you." He stretched his hand to hold her arms, causing a cold chill to pass through Anne-Marie's skin as she slowly raised her gaze to his, too numb from shock.

"And I can care for you, I can protect you just as much as he can. You don't need to be Queen, and we don't have to keep hiding, we don't have to keep lying to those we care about, the Queen, the Prince. If you go on with the engagement, and the royal family finds out that you deceived them on your first night with the prince, they'd never forgive you. Your father, he's never going to take your side and he'd abandon you too. You could get hurt, don't you understand? This obsession for this throne could destroy you."

Anne-Marie was rooted to the spot, her mind reeling from the bombshell Asher had just dropped. The enormity of what he was saying began to sink in, and she could feel herself trembling, her grip on reality slipping. She took an unsteady step back, the weight of his words crashing down on her. The room felt like it was closing in, the walls pressing in on her as she struggled to make sense of everything.

Asher looked into her eyes, the finality of the gesture echoing in the silence that followed. He could see the confusion and fear in her eyes, it was one he had never seen before. He couldn't read her, not like he used to, he couldn't say what she was thinking but he could see how scared she was. He could feel her tremble under his touch. He was scaring her, it was probably too much for her to take in and it frightened him just as much to see her that way.

He slowly let her go,

He knew she needed some time to wrap her head around the things he said.

"Niyagra," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "If you're trying to find him, you should go to Niyagra. He's probably there again, just like every other year."

Asher turned to leave. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Anne-Marie alone in the cold, sterile room. The reality of what had just happened began to set in, and she felt her legs buckle beneath her. She reached out, grabbing the edge of the table for support, her knuckles white from the force of her grip.

She was trembling from head to toe, her mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions. The room spun around her, and she felt like she was about to collapse under the weight of it all.

What the hell had just happened?

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the world, but the truth was there, undeniable and terrifying. Asher's words echoed in her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.